


Rings

by TheCrowMaiden



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth is sad about missing experiences and Claude comforts her, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Traditions, post golden deer route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrowMaiden/pseuds/TheCrowMaiden
Summary: Byleth is unsure what traditions are; Claude explains and helps her find one of her own.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 164





	Rings

“What does tradition mean?”

“Huh?”

“Sometimes people reply with ‘it’s tradition’ when I ask a question. What does it mean?”

Claude looked up at his wife from where he sat at the sole desk in their private quarters, trying to finish one last missive before the candles burned out. Uniting Fodlan had created more paperwork than he or Byleth had anticipated, and Claude often found himself trying to squeeze one more task into the evenings before he retired. It wasn’t Byleth’s favourite habit, but he wasn’t any more fond of her insistent to continue to lead the army from the front lines while they cleaned up after Those who Slither(ed) in the Dark. They were both away from the other too often.

But right then, Byleth was sitting on the bed, her brow furrowed as she waited for an answer to her question.

When they first met, Claude might have joked about such a question. He’d have teasingly enquired about her upbringing, and gotten an uncomfortable silence in return. But he knew better now. He knew Byleth’s childhood was a blur of fighting and wandering, washed with blood and isolation. Jeralt had meant well, but…

Claude scratched his jaw, and put down his quill before he dwelled too much on things he couldn’t change.

“Traditions are…well, they’re like voluntary laws in some families. Things we do year after year and pass down from one generation to the next until we sometimes don’t remember why.”

His wife didn’t look enlightened by that answer, and Claude gave up on his writing. Explaining was going to take a bit of effort, and Byleth deserved his full attention. So he piled things in a way he’d hopefully make sense of in the morning, and got up to sit next to her on the bed. She leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. For a minute they simply sat in silence, until he sighed as he wracked his brain for something better.

“Wearing certain things at weddings, or leadership passing down family lines are traditions.” Claude wrinkled his nose. “Actually, those are bad examples. Wait, I’ve got a good one: Raphael lighting a candle for his parents every year on the anniversary of their deaths is a tradition.”

“Do you have any?” Byleth asked, her expression slowly going from confused to contemplative.

“I suppose wyvern riding. Everyone in my family—and a lot of Almyrans in general—learn how. It’s a tradition to take to the skies in combat.”

Understanding dawned in her gaze at last, and Claude felt a rock form in his gut when the comprehension in Byleth’s eyes turned sad. It was a look he knew. It was a look that she got whenever she realized that she was missing something that others had, that she was once again different and somehow the poorer for it.

“… I don’t have anything like that.”

Her hands were folded loosely in her lap, and Claude took one in his to squeeze reassuringly at her whispered comment. Even with his concern for Byleth at the forefront of his mind, he internally sighed at the sight of the ring he had proposed with—caught between their fingers and too bulky for her hand. Between the war ending, and realizing he needed to return to his homeland with the successes in Fodlan to carry his words, he hadn’t had the time to pick out a better one for her and it always bothered him.

It wasn’t _ugly_; it was just a typical piece for the region, a sturdy band and minimal ornamentation. After a brief deliberation of the few styles the merchant had shown him,he’d picked out the one with the emerald because it reminded him of Byleth’s hair and eyes. He often, rather aggrievedly, imagined it was the exact ring that anyone from the academy would have purchased if they’d been in his place. But she’d refused his offers to find something more unique. Apparently she found a certain charm in the ring he’d so frantically searched for after Nemesis fell, even if the results paled in comparison to the one she had given him in return.

Wait.

“Your ring!” Claude cried triumphantly, holding his hand up and startling Byleth from her melancholy. “You said this was your mother’s once, right?”

“Yes. My father… he said he wanted me to give it to someone I loved as much as he loved her. So I gave it to you.”

A touch of heat crept into Claude’s face at the matter-of-fact way Byleth mentioned loving him and he glanced away as he cleared his throat. When she only looked at him with puzzlement, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Allowing himself a moment to marvel at the fact he was lucky enough to be married to her, he murmured a quick affirmation of their shared sentiment before he got back to the matter at hand.

“Well there you go. Proposing with that ring is your family’s tradition, passed down from your father. Whoever inherits it after me will carry that on.”

And just as simply as that, Byleth’s worries were eased. She smiled up at Claude, twining her fingers with his and admiring the silver and purple ring with new happiness in her eyes. It wasn’t just a family heirloom now, it was a _tradition_. It was a thread that tied Byleth not just to Claude, but to the people around her too.

In the morning, Claude would brave Alois’s boisterous manner and stories for anything more he could gather about Jeralt’s customs. He would piece everything together and soothe his wife’s fears until she felt like she belonged, until she could join in conversations with confidence. Then, the next time something came up she didn’t understand, he would do it all over again. As many times as needed.

Because one day, much like the unification of Fodlan, Byleth’s life would be complete—and she would never feel like an outsider again. Claude would make sure of it.


End file.
